Chapter 5: "Of Sages, Secret Planets, and Budget Meetings from Hell"
Meanwhile, as Naruto Uzumaki, Immortal Sage™ and Accidental immortal Farmer, was enjoying his first hot bath in centuries (with cucumber water and gold-trimmed towels), a very different storm was brewing…
...in a very cold, very shiny, very bureaucratic room called the S-Class Briefing Hall.
Inside sat the top heroes of the Hero Association, each with enough power to level cities—some on purpose, some on accident. And most of them were extremely bad at sitting still.
On the big screen behind the dais: a picture of a blond giant, red-eyed, vaguely confused, and definitely not wearing any expression other than "I want food and maybe a nap."
Child Emperor, the world's most dangerous ten-year-old scientist, squinted at the screen and muttered:
"Why are we discussing urban legends? Isn't that the Immortal Sage? He's from the Epic of Origin, not the Hero Registry."
One of the exhausted staffers—who had clearly downed six energy drinks just to survive this meeting—shook his head.
"That image was taken today, during the registration exam. He signed his name as Naruto Uzumaki. He is… very much real."
The room went very, very still.
"WHAT?!" the kid genius yelped, almost dropping his multi-tool lollipop.
"Who?" asked Tatsumaki, the resident pint-sized psychic nuke, who was floating upside-down out of boredom and chewing on psychic gum.
"Big guy? I could crush him with a thought."
"No," Blackshine said in a quiet, admiring voice, chin resting on his palm. "We must respect that level of mass. A true alpha aesthetic."
Then Metal Knight, the walking paranoia project, piped in through a monitor because he didn't trust air particles enough to show up in person:
"According to historical records, Naruto Uzumaki—also known as the Immortal Sage—was the reason monsters did not overtake humanity thousands of years ago. Legend claims he defeated a solar-sized monster and ate it. Which is obviously... metaphor."
Tatsumaki yawned so hard she nearly dislocated her jaw.
"So what, he's the mythological Uberman. Doesn't mean anything if we haven't seen the data. And don't say 'he eats suns' again, that sounds like something a kindergartener would make up."
But then the staffer pulled out the real kicker.
They switched to security footage—grainy, glitchy, and barely able to handle what happened. One moment: Genos, standing proud. Next moment: Genos, planted into the pavement like a futuristic tent stake.
"His servant, calling herself Konan, neutralized an S-Rank hero in under one second. That was reportedly 0.01% of her Master's power."
Atomic Samurai raised an eyebrow. "And what was the Master's reaction?"
The staff rewound to Naruto watching the whole thing with all the interest of a man watching two ants wrestle for a crumb.
'Pathetic,' his face seemed to say.
The tension in the room was palpable.
Even Flashy Flash, who had been fixing his hair in the reflection of his sword, stopped.
"Interesting," said Atomic Samurai, stroking his chin. "If he really is the Sage, he must know every martial art. I'd like to test that theory."
"Don't get too excited," Tatsumaki said, flipping upside-down again. "He could just be some overgrown potato farmer with fanatical fan girls. You know how power types are—big on muscles, low on brains."
The rest of the room ignored her. Especially because she'd said the same thing about every S-Rank hero who wasn't her.
Child Emperor frowned. "So… if it is him, then humanity might be looking at its last real hope. Or its worst nightmare."
"Which is why," the staffer continued with a gulp, "we're officially promoting both Naruto Uzumaki and his companion to S-Rank status immediately. Please avoid provoking them. The Sage is not known for his… restraint."
The screen went black.
The room sat in silence.
Then came the inevitable response from every single person in that room who had way too much confidence:
"I'll do what I want."
Because, really, they were S-Rank for a reason.
And rules?
They were just suggestions with more syllables.
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Back at Naruto's mansion…
Naruto was trying to figure out how to use a bidet without causing a flood.
Konan was standing in the hallway with a massive whip, politely informing the butler that his lord required seventeen meals, properly arranged by chakra color spectrum.
Naruto sneezed.
"Ugh, I feel like someone's talking about me again."
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In the cool, marble-floored halls of the Hero Association HQ—where logic usually went to die screaming—a new wave of chaos was about to begin.
The kind powered not by monsters or immortals...
…but by a very familiar enemy:
Corporate committees.
It all began when Zombieman, the Association's resident immortal with the personality of stale coffee, did something truly shocking.
He spoke up.
"Isn't there supposed to be a planet out there that the Sage made?"
A collective blink passed over the room like someone had pressed the mute button on everyone's common sense.
Child Emperor, already deep in cost analyses and drone programming, looked up with genuine surprise.
"Wait, you read the Epic of Origin?"
Zombieman narrowed his eyes under his tattered fedora.
"Yeah. Got a problem, kid?"
"No, just… wow. That's actually kinda cool."
Tatsumaki, floating in lazy circles near the ceiling, rolled her eyes so hard they almost dislodged from her skull.
"Ugh, you nerds are quoting fairy tales now? What's next? A treasure hunt for his magic shovel?"
Metal Knight's voice buzzed in like a killjoy mosquito from the speakers overhead.
"If the planet is real—and the Sage truly made it—then this Naruto is either an imposter or a reincarnation. Unless, of course, the Sage just left his planet and is back for a surprise performance."
He paused, probably calculating how many satellite lasers it would take to "greet" someone like Naruto.
"Either way, locating this planet is highly improbable. It's described as invisible and requires "permission of soul" to access. Not exactly something Google Maps supports."
Child Emperor perked up, fingers tapping away on his tablet like he was typing the plot of a sci-fi thriller.
"Actually… if we launched long-range drones in a spiral deployment pattern, synced with quantum signature scanners keyed to mythical energy frequencies—"
"—Which don't exist," Tatsumaki added unhelpfully.
"—then we could triangulate blind spots in our orbital scans. Worst case, we beef up Earth's defense net. Best case: we find something interesting."
There was a long pause.
Zombieman scratched his stubbly chin.
"Do we have the budget for that?"
Everyone turned to the Finance Officer, a man so dry he could make a desert feel hydrated. He checked his clipboard and sighed like he was being asked to fund the apocalypse (again).
"If we cancel lunch stipends for the next fiscal year, eliminate new hero suit upgrades, and maybe sell one or two of the sky fortresses... we might afford half of it."
"Or," Tatsumaki chimed in with a smirk, "you could just ask him."
Silence.
The type of silence that happens when someone suggests talking to the immortal sage who might accidentally blink your atoms out of existence.
"No thanks," said Atomic Samurai, polishing his blade. "I enjoy having skin."
"I vote we go ahead with the drones," Child Emperor said, already sending orders to his lab.
"I vote we stop voting," Tatsumaki said. "You're all a bunch of drama queens."
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Meanwhile, back at the mansion, Naruto was lounging in a 30-foot hot tub that required its own plumbing system, eating peeled grapes, and trying not to cry over how scary bidets were.
Konan was sitting nearby on a silk pillow, organizing a miniature army of cucumbers by size and shininess.
"My lord, would you like me to vanquish the sun? It offended your complexion this morning."
"Please just let me nap…"
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Waking up in a bed large enough to house a small army, Naruto Uzumaki did not feel like the Immortal Sage.
He felt like a very tall fraud.
Especially since a blonde-haired dominatrix named Konan was drooling on his chest like a sleepy kitten, muttering something about "divine thighs" and "glorious neck veins."
"Not again," Naruto muttered, peeling her off like a weighted blanket made of enthusiasm and delusion. He gently set her down on the bed, tucking the covers over her. "Sleep well, cultist."
And with that, he tiptoed into the bathroom like a man sneaking away from his own problems—which, to be fair, he was.
The bathroom was the size of a bowling alley and came with six towel warmers, a mini-fridge full of vitamin water, and a mirror so tall it could double as a skyscraper window.
Naruto stood in front of the mirror, completely and tragically exposed to himself.
"Okay, let's see the truth."
He did a slow 360, flexing a little.
Honestly? His body was decent. Not Saitama-level shredded, not bodybuilder massive—just… sturdy. Like a tree trunk that went to the gym twice a week and didn't skip leg day.
But it wasn't his body that bothered him.
It was those red eyes. Bright, piercing, and apparently scary enough to cause small children to scream and the elderly to attempt to exorcise him with pocket crucifixes.
"They're not creepy," he said to himself. "They're intense. Mysterious. Beautiful even."
"…Okay maybe not beautiful, but artistically unsettling at worst."
He tried to smile at his reflection.
The mirror cracked a little at the corner.
"That's fair."
Sinking into the hot bath, Naruto groaned as the water did its best to melt away his panic.
Unfortunately, panic was a bit like Konan—it didn't take hints.
"I'm a hero now," he muttered, sinking lower into the tub like a drowning potato. "But I don't know how to fight. I blacked out during a monster attack and woke up being worshipped."
He imagined what would happen if Konan found out the truth.
Broken bones. Shattered dreams. A possibly unhinged immortaldess of death crying in a corner.
Naruto sank even lower.
But as the heat soaked into his muscles, he tried to think rationally. He started doing what every hero should: analyze stats like a responsible nerd.
He stood four meters tall, could run as fast as a horse, and lift a literal small car if he really tried. That put him comfortably in the D-rank range, and stronger than your average Mumen Rider (bless that guy's bicycle-loving heart).
But still…
"I'm basically a tall farmer with good posture," he groaned. "Even the monsters are stronger than me. I couldn't fight a demon-level mosquito without crying."
And that was when Naruto realized something very important.
"I need training. Real training. Not 'swing a stick at pumpkins' training."
The issue? He had to do it without alerting Konan. Because if she found out he wasn't the immortal she believed in, she might offer his kidneys to the moon.
It was a bright morning in City Z, which honestly made Naruto more suspicious than comforted.
Bright mornings meant monsters, taxes, or Konan deciding to "express her loyalty" with increasingly alarming cosplay options.
This time, thankfully, it was just training plans.
Naruto clicked the communicator he'd been given by the Hero Association and did his best impression of someone who wasn't freaking out.
"Karen, can you gather intel on dojos with strong martial arts skills?"
There was a beat of silence on the other end, then the voice of a very calm, very professional woman.
"Lord Uzumaki. How may I assist?"
Ah yes, Karen, the assistant who had somehow managed to get promoted overnight from panic-stricken desk worker to personal aide to the walking apocalypse. She had purple hair, a slim frame, and the kind of dead-eyed calm that usually belonged to war veterans or teachers on their sixth cup of coffee.
Currently, she was watching him via a mirror feed. A full-body shot. Towel not included.
Naruto froze.
She did not.
"I'll begin immediately, my lord," Karen continued smoothly. "Though I humbly request leniency when you evaluate the dojos. They're very proud of their buildings… and their bones."
Naruto choked.
"I'm not planning to kill anyone!"
Karen didn't say anything, but he could hear the smile through the transmission.
'Why does everyone think I'm the final boss of a horror game?'
He grumbled to himself as he got dressed, choosing the least immortallike robe he could find. A plain white tunic. A belt. Some soft slippers. He looked like a lost monk on vacation. Perfect.
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Meanwhile, Karen was already working at blinding speed.
She sat at her new glass desk in the Hero Association's "VIP Wing," surrounded by six monitors, half a dozen floating tabs, and a potted cactus she named "Survivor."
The keyword she was researching?
"Dojo. Elite. Teaches useful fighting. Doesn't explode easily."
Because Lord Uzumaki had asked for martial arts—and she was 80% sure he meant "learn how to fight" and not "use someone's kneecaps as drumsticks."
She'd already pulled up three candidates:
Iron Wolf School of Martial Excellence – Famous for its ancient forms and respect for elders.
Tornado Fist Dojo – Half gym, half gladiator pit.
The Way of the Gentle Palm – Which sounded promising until she saw the headmaster throw a minivan during a sparring demo.
'They'll all die,' Karen thought grimly, sipping her coffee. 'But at least they'll die proud.'
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Back at the mansion, Naruto was busy panicking in the closet. Not in the closet like a secret—literally inside the walk-in closet, trying to test if his punches could crack the marble walls without alerting Konan.
The marble won.
"Ow."
Konan stirred in the bedroom, muttering something about "flaming glory" and "deity massage oil."
"Nope." Naruto darted out of the closet and flopped onto the couch like a totally innocent man.
Just then, the communicator buzzed again.
"Lord Uzumaki," Karen said, voice cool and serene, "I've found three potential dojos. Should I schedule evaluations?"
Naruto sat up, trying to look wise.
"Yes. Discreetly. And… please tell them I'm not there to vaporize anyone."
"Understood. I will frame it as a talent-scouting tour."
'You're scarily good at this,' Naruto thought.
"Thank you," he said aloud. "Also… Karen?"
"Yes, Lord Uzumaki?"
"Do you think I look scary?"
There was a pause. Karen, the ever-icy professional, actually tilted her head.
"You look like an ancient immortal returned from a dream, forged in shadow and sunfire, destined to judge the wicked."
A beat.
"So… yes?"
Naruto slumped.
"Right. Okay. Thank you."
'I'll go cry into a training dummy later.'